


The Colors in my Eyes

by longhairedflapper



Category: LOVECRAFT H. P. - Works
Genre: 50s, College au (sort of), Creepy Cults, Drugged Damsel, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Teacher-Student Relationship, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 07:49:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12272070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longhairedflapper/pseuds/longhairedflapper
Summary: Emmaline is an ambitious freshman at Miskatonic University who soon finds herself infatuated with her professor, Dr. Haze.  She's pleasantly surprised when he appears to return her affections.  Unfortunately, this is Arkham, and their romance quickly takes a dark turn...





	The Colors in my Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short Lovecraft fic I wrote a while ago (back when I was a freshman, actually). It's pretty heavy on the OC's, but there is some Yog-Sothoth action towards the end. Gotta love Yog-Sothoth. Anyway, it's super short and not my best, but I thought I'd post it as my first story on this site because I had a lot of fun with it. Enjoy!

In 1956, I was one of the few female students to attend Miskatonic University in Arkham, Massachusetts. My parents were not pleased with my decision. My family, the Rushes, had settled in Boston long ago, and we had a reputation for being progressive when it came to the education of women. In reality, we were anything but. True, the Rushes educated their daughters just as much as their sons and sent them off to Harvard or Yale, but not for the girls' own benefit. No, the Rush patriarchs felt that if they must have offspring that couldn't bear the family name after their wedding days, they may as well snag prominent lawyers or politicians for husbands. Being the only girl in my particular branch of the Rushes, and being blessed with a pretty face and decent figure, I knew from a young age that this was to be my lot in life. 

It's possible, I suppose, that my parents educated me too well for their own good. I had little interest in law or business, which most of the Rush women went into for a few months until they found a well-moneyed man in the same field. Instead, I was fascinated with the past. My life's dream was to learn every detail of the histories of every single society. I could spend hours pouring over Plutarch's Lives, or Native American creation myths. I learned Latin and Greek by the time I was seventeen, and I made it my New Year's resolution to learn Aramaic before college. I still went out on dates with boys from my high school, of course. My parents would've worried if I'd dedicated all my time to my studies, and I knew from experience that it was best to stay on their good side. Besides, I liked boys, probably more than my parents would've liked. Of course I didn't tell them everything about my academic or sex life.

My father was less than thrilled when my acceptance letter arrived from Arkham, but I was overjoyed. 

“You realize you're not going to meet anyone there, don't you, Emmaline?” he said. “They're all a bunch of historians and linguists over there – that sort of thing. The best you could hope to do with that is scrape by with a professor's pay.”

“Which is exactly what I plan to do,” I said. “With or without a man.”

My father sighed. “Emmy,” he said. “You're a smart girl. I've no doubt you'd be better qualified to teach than most of the boys in your class. But universities aren't going to see it that way. It's not easy for a woman to get a teaching position.”

“I'll cut my hair and wear a suit,” I joked. 

My father just rolled his eyes. Even in a family infamous for its stubbornness, I could outargue anyone – not necessarily because I was smarter, but because I could outlast everyone. 

So in the end I got my wish and began my studies at Miskatonic University. From the first day I loved it. Arkham was a little smaller than Boston, but just as busy, and it had an even richer history. I enjoyed the local's stories of devil-worshipping cults and ghosts of women who'd been hanged as witches even more than the cafes and shops that lined the main street. 

The college itself was beautiful, and I quickly befriended several people who shared my fascination with past societies and languages. One of them was Dr. Haze, the professor who taught my Ancient Roman History course. He was my favorite of all my teachers. His lectures were so enthusiastic that even the most bored freshman couldn't help but feel intrigued by his descriptions of Roman politics or religion or domestic life. After a while, I found, much to my dismay, that I was paying less and less attention to the class and more and more attention to him. 

He was not exactly what you'd call a good looking man. For one thing, he was rather short; only a couple inches taller than me. With his broad shoulders and muscular arms and legs, I imagined he must have looked pretty impressive once, in spite of his height. Now he'd softened a little and filled out on his chest and hips and belly. He had a thick mop of grey hair, but his tanned, handsome face could've been that of a twenty-year-old. He had big, dark eyes and a pouting mouth, and he always looked a little bit sad. Most of his students made fun of him behind his back, but it was all in good fun.

He was a messy, rather comical person, but he spoke with such energy and passion that I couldn't help but feel stirred listening to him, and I found myself wanting him to look at me. He never did, of course. He always seemed to be looking somewhere else entirely, as if he didn't even see the small, cramped room, or his students. I wondered what he saw. 

I joined the class a little late in the semester, and I hadn't been able to buy one of the required texts. That day I put on my nicest black dress, a string of pearls, and some red lipstick. I hadn't believed in God for years, but if I did I would've thanked Him for the fact that I'd curled my hair the night before.

When I knocked on the door to his office my heart was beating so quickly I thought it would burst out of my chest. I took three deep breaths to calm myself, had another small heart attack when I thought he wasn't in, then managed to compose myself again just as he opened the door. 

“Ah, Miss Rush!” he exclaimed, as if he'd been expecting me. “Come in, come in!” He cleared a path through the piles of books that littered the floor, and pointed to a chair in front of his desk. “Please, have a seat. I'm sorry about the mess.”

I stepped gingerly into his office, taking care not to trip over anything. Having come from a home that was always kept spotless, the clutter felt comfortable and strangely welcoming. Books with titles like The Goddess Cults of Ancient Rome were stacked in small towers beside his desk, and strangely carved little figurines crowded his shelves. 

“What can I do for you?” he asked, taking a seat behind his desk. I sat down across from him, leaning forward slightly. I noticed with no small amount of satisfaction that his eyes lingered a while on my pearl necklace. I met his eyes and he looked away quickly, his cheeks reddening slightly.

“Well, I have a bit of a favor to ask you,” I said. I had worried that I'd be awkward and tongue-tied around him, but somehow he had a way of putting me totally at ease. I suppose he was so bumbling that I felt there was no way I could possibly embarrass myself around him.

“Oh?” he asked. He looked at me with a new interest in his dark eyes, I thought, though that was quite possibly nothing more than wishful thinking.

“Yes,” I continued. “You see, I wasn't able to get the book on Roman cults we were supposed to have, and I was wondering if I could borrow it from you.”

“Oh, of course!” he said, beaming. “Of course, I normally wouldn't give that out to just anyone, but I know you're a very dedicated student, Miss Rush – may I call you Emmaline?” 

Was he teasing me? “Of course,” I said. “And thank you, Dr. Haze.”

“Please,” he said, handing me the book. “Alistair.”

I nodded. “Thank you, Alistair,” I said as I left his office.


End file.
